


Warcraft Drabbles

by mneiai



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Drabbles, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-03-24 22:47:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13821060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mneiai/pseuds/mneiai
Summary: Prompt fills and random drabbles I think up. Characters/Ships in the chapter titles for easy navigation.





	1. Music - Vol'jin/Tyrathan

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr is manyangledone and I'm still taking prompts through asks.
> 
> This one is mostly crack.

Anonymous: Those wrestling gifs is Tyrathon trying to play a giant Horde instrument for Vol'jin

([The gifs in question, a wrestler with a giant instrument](http://manyangledone.tumblr.com/post/171206386609/sassywelshgiraffe-wrestlingoutofcontext-oh))

And I bet he’d actually be really good at it, too, because he’s Tyrathan and he doesn’t do anything by halves. And Vol’jin would be torn between being flattered/impressed and laughing his ass off.

In fact, it would have started off as a joke–maybe there’s a lot of jokes at Tyrathan’s expense when it has to do with his size, considering so many of the Horde races are so much larger than him (except Goblins and Undead, but who really wants to be compared to them?). So, good naturedly, Tyrathan was like “okay, sure, I’ll go along with that, teach me.” 

What they didn’t know was that Tyrathan actually already knew how to play some instruments–hunters with his particular skills tended to be held in reserve for special missions, so he and his fellows had a lot of down time. Maybe he’d never played an instrument BIGGER THAN HIM, but once he gets that down, it’s not all that hard. He even learns some traditional Troll songs that can be played on it, practicing in secret (well, “secret” is all relative, half of Ogrimmar knows what he’s doing, but they all agree to keep it from the Warchief).

He doesn’t feel quite ready, but Vol’jin’s been under a lot of stress and so he has Baine help him sneak the instrument into Vol’jin’s room and is waiting for him when he returns from a long day of meetings. He starts playing before Vol’jin arrives, a classic Darkspear song that makes Vol’jin confused as to what’s going on in his room. Then he gets there, and sees Tyrathan, and is even more confused.

After a few more songs (Vol’jin at some point closing his eyes so he doesn’t have to actually LOOK at the ridiculous sight and can just appreciate the music), Tyrathan switches it up to what he’s been told are “romantic” Horde songs (he doesn’t quite believe that, but multiple people agreed, so he reluctantly learned them). It doesn’t take long for Vol’jin to interrupt, push the instrument to the side, and show him just how much he appreciated the effort.

After a few Taurens get ahold of some human instruments and ask Tyrathan to teach them to play them, they accidentally end up starting a band involving fusion music and everyone having ridiculously sized instruments for them.


	2. Back to Life - Vol'jin/Tyrathan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked:  
> If you do take Vol'jin/Tyrathon prompts, we could aways use some more angst with something bad happening to Tyrathon *waggles eyebrows*

Sylvanas hated loose ends. Too often, they came back to ruin her plans when she least expected it–when she could least afford it. So after becoming Warchief, she set about making sure to take care of any that Vol’jin’s unexpected death had left for her.

There was nothing she could do about the other leaders within the Horde (not directly, at least, not immediately), who may have preferred Vol’jin’s philosophy for ruling far more than her own, but there were other measures she could take.

A lucky incident allowed her to bring the Zandalari trolls into the Horde, to weaken the strength of the Darkspear and cause dissension within their ranks. Another, the Highmountain tauren…and it was easy enough for a few well-placed comments to remind everyone of Baine’s continued friendship with the boy king, Anduin Wrynn, and to throw just a little doubt onto his commitment to the Horde’s future security.

Keeping those she couldn’t trust weak, preventing them from working against her, would help ensure that she never had to face the unified front that Garrosh did.

But there were other people, less important but still potential annoyances, that she decided would be best to get rid of. Going down the list, she eventually landed on Vol’jin’s dirty little secret–his human lover. That one was so easy to destroy, humans were fragile creatures to begin with and sending members of the Horde against one was far easier than arranging an assassination for a member of her own side.

They brought her back an arrow from his quiver, which she mounted on a wall of her command room along with other trophies too ambiguous for those around her to interpret. The amusement she took from it, from knowing how easy it could be to tear apart such a powerful troll’s life, had buoyed her through many a long day.

No one expected Vol’jin to return. That trolls had communicated with him in the spirit realm was expected, that adventurers had claimed his assistance, that he could somehow manifest within the living realm, had been unusual but not unheard of.

That he’d returned, in the flesh, living and breathing-–no one expected that. They’d seen him die, this time. They’d burned his body. He’d been gone.

After everything Sylvanas had put them through, most of the Horde was ecstatic at his return. And he floated along on their happiness and relief, content to be back where he truly belonged. Someday he would die, again, and take his place among the Loa, but not quite yet.

It wasn’t until a full day had past, of figuring out all the ways that Sylvanas had manipulated his people and changed the Warchief’s customs, that he made his way back to the room she actually kept her work in. He was digging through papers, piecing together her plots, when he saw it.

Pinned to the wall, presented like a trophy, a red, and blue, and black arrow. Unmistakable.

He’d been so busy helping the Horde where he could, and their champions, and setting about the events to come back, he hadn’t tried to turn his attention to other things. He had thought, out of everything he had to worry about, Tyrathan would surely be fine.

Sylvanas had documented so many things, surprisingly, that he even found the order. Found how much she’d SPENT, how much she’d thought Tyrathan’s life had been worth.

He’d been halfway between worlds, then, too alive to catch Tyrathan’s spirit as it passed by. There would be no bargaining with Bwonsamdi for more time with him, there would be no trances that could bring them together in the spirit realm.

Vol’jin had known he’d be sacrificing power to come back, and whatever peace he could find after death, but he hadn’t realized he’d be sacrificing his happiness, as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also if anyone wants to plot/speculate/rp/whatever, let me know. (I also have other WoW ships, even though I know it doesn't look like it!)


	3. Tyrathan Gen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first thing Tyrathan does when he returns from Pandaria is visit his family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Changed the name to "tumblr drabbles" to encompass more than just prompt fills.
> 
> This was originally posted on [tyrathan.tumblr.com](http://tyrathan.tumblr.com)

When Tyrathan returned home he found nothing but joy on the faces of his family. They had thought him dead and his miraculous reappearance wiped away all their doubts and fears regarding him. He held his youngest in his arms for hours, the others leaning into him, his wife telling him of all he missed with tears of happiness in her eyes. They had been so in love once, that history remained between them.

That first night, Morelan took him aside. “I never told them, what Vol’jin told me. I knew you weren’t dead, no one else shoots like that.”

Tyrathan grimaced. “I know, I just….”

“There’s lots of reasons to feel lost, especially during a war.” Morelan set a hand on Tyrathan’s shoulder, supportive as usual.

“It wasn’t that. I thought it would be easier for everyone, if I was gone. You could step in and be with Lyrenza, be there for my children as you already have been.” Even in the low light of the lantern hanging above them, Tyrathan could watch Morelan’s eyes widen with every word that left him. “You’re the husband she wants, the father my children deserve.”

“Tyrathan, you know that’s not true!”

“Isn’t it? Has everything between you and my wife been platonic?”

Morelan looked away, shoulder slumping. “I’m…so sorry. I never meant to….”

“I don’t blame you for it, if anything I’m thankful you’ve been there when I couldn’t be. You’re better suited for them than I’ll ever be.”

“But they’re still your family.”

Tyrathan shook his head. “Things have been rocky between me and Lyrenza, right now they seem so easy because she’s happy, and maybe guilty, but they’ll go back to how they were. If I stay, she’ll grow to resent me, because I’m not so different from the man I was. If I go, but don’t release her, she’ll resent me.”

Morelan’s hand trembled where it still touched Tyrathan and he gave the noble a brief smile.

“I can’t say if she’ll agree, but tomorrow, when the kids are distracted, I’m going to talk to her about a divorce. I’m telling her I forgive her. And hoping that someday she can forgive me.”

“Tyrathan….”

“She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, Morelan, and I want her to be happy. If she’s finding that happiness with you, it would be cruel of me to prevent it.”

They didn’t speak much after that, neither knowing what more to say. The next day, as Tyrathan had assumed, his wife agreed they should go their separate ways, tears streaming down her face as they finally talked through years of tension between them. They parted as friends, as parents of shared children, and Tyrathan couldn’t help but thank whatever gods might be listening for allowing such a thing to pass.


	4. Surrender - Sylvanas/Anduin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Horde takes Stormwind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is not actually a finished piece, but something I hope to one day find a place for

The city was overrun, Horde pouring through the streets, running down any citizens unfortunate enough to still be within the walls. Anduin had given evacuation orders hours ago, had told people to prepare days before, as soon as the attack on the Deep Run Tram was known, the flooding of the tunnel making it impossible for most to make it through. Still, he understood stalling. And he understood the need to go down with the city.

The others had left, begging him to follow, and he'd given some sentiment that he might. It had been a lie, but he couldn't feel guilty. They may have stayed too long, long enough for the distortion field that cut off the portals to fall over Stormwind. Then they, too, would have died with him.

He could see the procession coming up to the keep and finally pulled himself away from the balcony, going to meet them. He descended the stairs with four guards, his personal guards who had refused to leave him. 

"Finally out of your grandfather's clothing, I see," Sylvanas voice always had an echoing quality, even in the open air, that made Anduin want to shudder.

"I'm not here to fight." He was dressed in cloth, a nobleman's outfit, his armor resting back in his rooms. If he were to be executed, he wanted to be comfortable. 

"Then what are you here for, little king?"

Anduin raised his chin, back straight, posture perfect. "I'm here to surrender on behalf of Stormwind. The surviving citizens do not deserve death."

Sylvanas dismounted, stalking up to him, smirking. She watched him like he was prey, like she would devour him, as she always did across the battlefield. He blamed his teenage body for the odd reaction that always gained her, hoping she didn't notice the flush in his cheeks.

"So noble, sacrificing yourself for them.l," she purred, in a way that made Anduin think she knew exactly what she did to him. "But what if I don't agree?"

Her words were like being doused in cold water. "You could have Blighted this city. You could have destroyed it without setting foot inside. Instead you sent physical troops in, you isolated us, left us vulnerable, but still intact. You want something from Stormwind."

She chuckled and kept approaching, not stopping until she could reach out and mockingly stroke his hair. "People do say you can be clever, when not discouraged by your mutt or the others."

Anduin shifted, biting the inside of his lip, unsure of the response she expected.

"What if what I want, little king, is Stormwind itself?" She stepped closer still, her body pressed against his, forcing him to tilt his head up to meet her blazing eyes. "What if I want you kneeling before me, not simply surrendering, but offering yourself and all that you hold to the Horde? To ME?"

"You--you can't mean...."

"You'll survive this, Anduin Wrynn, as will your city, as will your people--well, the ones who cooperate. You'll tear down those gaudy Alliance banners, bar their peoples from your territories, and offer your allegiance to me. To the Horde."

Anduin felt dizzy. He had expected death, something he thought he could welcome with calm, with understanding, but this was something worse. Betraying the Alliance. Turning his back on his father and what he built.

Except....Anduin looked away, up at the Keep, out at the parts of the city he could see. His father had built this, too. And his mother. Bolvar, Anduin Lothar, so many had put their work into recreating Stormwind, giving their people back their home. It wasn't just about the Alliance.

And he thought most of them would understand, would know that Anduin wouldn't do this except in the most severe of circumstances. 

He glanced back at his guards, the only other humans present, and saw uncertainty on their faces. Not hatred, not disgust. They, too, were weighing this option.

Taking a deep breath, Anduin stepped back. Anger flashed in Sylvanas' face, turning into surprised delight as he knelt before her.

"The sovereign state of Stormwind and its territories formally request membership to the Horde, Warchief."

She chuckled, brushing his cheek with the sharp talons of her gloves, cupping his chin and holding firm. "Your Warchief accepts."


	5. Gorak Tul/Ulfar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any rare pairs you'd think I'd be into and want to see a drabble, you can mention them in comments on any of these.

"They'll destroy us!" 

"You're destroying us," Ulfar roared back, for all he was in his original, humanoid form.

Gorak sneered, distancing himself in space, in emotion, as he circled the table riddled with maps and scrolls, ancient magics flickering around him, making Ulfar's hackles rise.

"I am the only one trying to save us! You saw what they did to the others, and now they move on Drustvar, they mean to destroy us. Whether it's through massacre or assimilation, we will fall." A pleading note appeared in his voice as he moved back around, wrapping his arms around Ulfar, pulling the other against him. He buried his face in Ulfar's wild hair, breathing in his scent. "I cannot do this without you."

"Without the Thornspeakers," Ulfar countered, though his arms came up around Gorak, desperate to feel him after days apart. "You want our magics even as you dabble with death."

"Without YOU, by my side, as you have ever been, as you are meant to be." Gorak shifted, gently moving Ulfar's head until their lips could meet. 

Ulfar kissed back, not hesitating. He knew, as he had known for days, that this would be the last time they could be together. The stench of Thros around Gorak strengthened each time they met and assimilation, the loss of their culture, was far less of a catastrophe than what Gorak might unleash.

"I love you," he whispered, as they moved towards the bed chamber, Gorak's servants scurrying to avoid them. 

Gorak grinned at him, perhaps thinking he had won their argument. "And you know I love you, have loved you from the moment we met. And when the invaders are finally gone, when peace has returned to our lands, you will never doubt it again."

Plots, Ulfar knew, were all Gorak's mind ever supplied, these days. He could only imagine the magics already being thought up to bind them together, whether Ulfar agreed or not. There was no more time to hesitate. Tomorrow he would go with his students to the settlers. They would put a stop to this all.


	6. Anduin Gen

The trees slid by as Anduin ran, gliding over the forest floor. The sounds and smell filled his senses, the moonlight illuminating the world more than enough. He ran until he forgot the grief that had been weighing down his waking moments, until the ache in his chest was one of exertion, not sadness. In the corner of his eyes, he could see his father's huge form, his dark hair flowing in the wind as they ran.

A clearing appeared, of plush grass beneath his bare feet and deep shadows even his sight couldn’t penetrate, and he slid to a stop, kneeling, breathing hard. Fur brushed along his back, his side. He leaned into it, gripping it between his fingers, and rested.

When he awoke, he would be a child of Light and Shadow once more, but here, in his dreams, he was the Son of the Wolf, and with Goldrinn he could remember allow himself to grieve.


	7. Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dark Wranduin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Per usual, written quickly on mobile, not beta'd, a piece of an idea I'll probably never build off of but felt like sharing.
> 
> If you have a prompt or something, feel free to leave it, if I'm inspired I might write something quick off of it.
> 
> Also, check out the [WoW Shipping/Fanworks Discord](https://discord.gg/sQwVcF2) \- A place for features and fans to discuss ships and fanworks, with no ship hate!

The legends said if you gave a dragon your love, that they'd take your heart and lock it away, where noone else could ever find it and claim it. Anduin had thought it was a silly legend, he had known dragons, had seen Kalec and Jaina and known that nothing like that could have happened between them. He had forgotten how different Black Dragons could be.

He did not hesitate, one still Pandaran evening with Wrathion lying on the grass beside him. “I love you,” he whispered, his deepest secret escaping like a sigh.

Wrathion had straddled him, eyes even brighter than usual, expression nothing Anduin could place. “Do you, really?”

“Yes.”

He had grinned, then, and Anduin had returned it. And then they were kissing. And then Wrathion was stripping Anduin of his vest, his shirt, looming over him.

“Say it again,” he'd whispered, hand splayed across Anduin's chest.

“I love you.”

Then the pain had started, Anduin screaming, and screaming, as talons ripped through his flesh, as Wrathion sat up straight and brought Anduin's heart to his lips before swallowing it whole.

Anduin had frantically clutched his chest, feeling no wound, feeling the best of his heart through the skin, but knowing that hadn't been an illusion. Knowing that what was fake was that he was still whole.

He'd cried, then, and Wrathion had held him, making soft purring noises and stroking his body until it responded despite his horror.

They'd returned to the tavern, somehow, and Anduin had woken up the next morning feeling hollow and cold. He always did after that, when Wrathion wasn't there beside him.


	8. Anduin Gen (slight Anduin + Bolvar)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While writing a relatively good Lich King Bolvar in No Peace, No Rest, I've had lots of ideas for a not nice version of him. This is a little bit of one of those ideas, originally posted on my Tumblr a few days ago.
> 
> If anyone wants to headcanon about Bolvar, Anduin, WoW, etc with me, feel free to hit me up.
> 
> Per usual, unbeta'd and written on mobile.

The celebration for their victory over Azshara was the earliest moment Anduin could pinpoint that it happened. Muradin was the first, suddenly choking, clutching at his abdomen, frothing blood bubbling from his mouth. Others soon followed. Anduin could barely spare any power, most of it automatically going to cleansing himself, the poison insidious as it avoided all but his most powerful spells. 

They'd thought it was the Horde and it was all Anduin could do, heartbroken, clutching at Vareesa and wondering how he would ever face her sons or sister again, to call off Greymane's rabid orders to mobilize. He wasn't delusional, he knew the cooperation they'd had didn't mean anything now that there battles were over and N'zoth's latest plot stopped, but Sylvanas would have never killed her sister where she wasn't guaranteed access to the body. 

This was something else. He just didn't know, at that moment, what it could be.

Sylvanas, when he met her, raged against the Alliance, the assassins, him. She insisted on having Vareesa's body, but Anduin demured, stating that was for her and Alleria to work out. When the body went missing not a day later, while Alleria was just finalizing the funeral plans, he wished he'd taken it and given it to the Banshee Queen. At least then they'd know what was happening to her.

Soon that wasn't the only poisoning. And with it came resurgences of diseases that rarely bothered them, attacks by wild animals that had been living in relative peace with the residents before, all manner of deaths, of mass deaths.

Anduin sat on his throne, listening to an adventurer tell him of another attack with only half an ear as he eyed the guards around the room, remembering when those had been Onyxia's people, instead.

He cancelled the rest of his appointments that day, locking himself in his bedroom and lying down for an unsatisfying nap.

He dreamed of cold so frigid he could barely feel it, and white, white snow as far as the eyes could see. Icecrown, stretched out before him, more active than it had been in years.

-Don't fret,- an echoing, otherworldly voice came, sounding as though it surrounded him. -We will see each other soon, Anduin. I won't leave you alone any longer.-

Down below the Scourge war machine worked on, but there, at the top of the Citadel, it was only him and the Lich King.

When he turned to face the throne, he didn't see the block of ice he'd been told of, or the horribly disfigured body the SI:7 reports he demanded after being crowned king spoke of. It was just Bolvar, as he'd looked the day he'd left, when he'd knelt down before Anduin and pulled him into a fierce hug, promising that he'd do all he could to return and that Varian would be there for him while Bolvar could not.

-I won't leave you alone any longer.-

He woke up crying.

***

“I know who it is,” he stated that evening, looking around at the diminished number of advisers around him. “It's the Cult of the Damned.”

Anger, fear, disbelief, the current of emotions in the room washed over him and he braced against them. 

“Why now?”

“Why not now? When the Alliance and Horde are in shambles? When we barely have enough soldiers to take down a particularly strong willed kodo, let alone an army of the undead?”

“So not just the Cult.” Danath hesitated, as if he could barely bring himself to say it, “The Lich King.”

Nothing productive could be done after that.


	9. Vanessa/Valeera

They traded insults even on their best days, VanCleef's snide, grating tone setting off Valeera's temper like nothing else. It grew worse as the weeks swept ever onward, the war against the Legion keeping them in closer quarters than anything had before. 

Technically, Valeera didn't have to handle it alone. But while Garona was constantly tense and hostile against VanCleef, that didn't make her an ally. And while Greymane had some loyalty to the Alliance, and therefore Anduin, Valeera didn't trust her father as far as she could throw an ettin, and had reserves about the daughter. So, instead, the shadow war between the two women continued on.

VanCleef preferred poisons and potions, Valeera had to constantly watch her food and drink, using potions and charms to counteract anything that she didn't catch. Valeera laid traps. Valeera slipped words to VanCleef's enemies as to where she'd be when on personal business. Neither of them interfered with missions for the Uncrowned, but only just.

After the Legion's defeat, all gloves were off. They found each other in an empty alley in Dalaran and finally their blades clashed. It took ten minutes before both of them were out of weapons, another two before they were grappling on the ground, shifting and clawing at each other. And just a few seconds before VanCleef moved her hips Just So and Valeera's eyes went wide, ears standing up.

“Are you--are you getting off on this?”

VanCleef froze, staring at her. “Aren't you?” 

“... Have you been flirting with me this whole time?!” Valeera twisted, using the distraction to gain the upper hand, slamming VanCleef's wrists into the pavement below them.

“You've been flirting back!”

“I've been trying to kill you!”

“But you haven't been!”

And if Valeera had been holding back, just a little, it was because the Uncrowned couldn't afford anymore losses, not because she felt anything for the manic human below her. Except now she couldn't stop thinking about how it had looked to VanCleef. And how good her soft human body felt below Valeera, and how hot she looked during their fight.

“If I kiss you, exactly how many cleansing potions will I have to take?”

VanCleef smirked, and for once Valeera could actually see it, the mask she wore having been lost during their grappling. “I've got the antidotes in my belt.”


	10. Wrathion/Anduin Wrynn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A random reunion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I just love the idea of them getting to be in love.
> 
>  
> 
> Also, I've created a WoW Shipping Discord for anyone interested in talking to other Warcraft fans about ships and fanworks: https://discord.gg/sQwVcF2

Anduin couldn't breathe.

His lungs moved, his breath flowed, but it didn't feel like it.

He'd thought, the next time he'd faced Wrathion, he would feel nothing but the betrayal that had simmered within him after their last encounter, that maybe it would even finally flow over into hate.

But now, after everything, after all the months of stress and torment, all he could feel was relief. Wrathion was still alive. Wrathion had returned.

“Wrathion,” he gasped, unsure how he'd gotten enough air to do so.

Now others had noticed him, as well. He heard Jaina's hiss to those around her, heard Valeera's angry orders to the guards. Anduin didn't care, slipping away from any hands that tried to reach him as he ran forward and--relieved again he'd talked Genn out of forcing him into armor--flung himself into the arms that had stretched open to welcome him.

They'd never embraced like this before, but years apart filled with longing and regrets made up for that. Anduin shouldn't have hidden his affections. He shouldn't have allowed the prejudice of those around him to keep him from what he knew in his heart to be good and true.

“Wrathion,” he repeated, just as breathlessly, uncaring of the scene around them.

Wrathion, on the other hand, was soaking up the drama, eyes glowing brighter in amusement. “My prince,” it was the same as it ever had been, but perhaps now, with Anduin in his arms, others were noticing the emphasis on the possessive that Wrathion sometimes indulged, and more cries erupted around them.

“I thought--I'd feared you dead.”

“I was simply...misplaced.”

It made no sense, except it did, Anduin having enough knowledge of the Bronze Dragonflight to know travel between worlds and times could be treacherous.

“But now you're back. You've returned.” To me, he wanted to say, to start again as if you'd never left and we were still the same.

Except, as soon as those thoughts occurred, he was reminded they weren't. Any desire to persecute Wrathion for his betrayal had fled at the sight of him, but Anduin was no longer his prince--Anduin was no longer a prince, at all.

The weight of the world resettled on his shoulders.

“Anduin, get away from that thing!” Genn cried, running after him.

Around them, the shocked citizens and visitors of Dalaran continued to watch the scene unfold. Vareesa's guards were circling, as she herself argued with a representative of the Kirin Tor.

“What have you done?” Anduin whispered, finally, knowing the smirk Wrathion wore too well.

“Simply offered my services for the good of Azeroth, of course. Who better to solve the of a world soul's wounds than an Earthwarder?” 

Wrathion pulled Anduin to his side, slinging an arm around his shoulder and guiding him back towards the building he'd come out of. While subtle, Anduin could see Left in the crowd, knew Right would be nearby, knew other Black Talons would be around them, as well. Wherever, whenever, Wrathion had been, he'd keep his network together, somehow.

Anduin had commitments. He had meetings with the Kirin Tor. He had allied leaders who clearly needed calmed down. He almost protested, almost pulled away, until he caught Khadgar's amused look and knew he'd have some time. Not enough, but some.

“I've missed you,” he whispered into Wrathion's shoulder, wrapping his arm around his waist and allowing himself to be guided away. 

“I've missed you, as well.” If nothing else, whatever journey Wrathion had made had left him honest, at least to Anduin, at least about them.

People were still watching, still staring, Alliance, Horde, others. Anduin didn't care. Anduin wanted everyone to know, so he'd never again have to pretend like Wrathion meant nothing to him, like his heart hadn't broken worse than his body ever had.


	11. Baine/Anduin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warchief Baine suffered through Sylvanas' rule and refuses to allow such to happen again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm kinda at that point in the xpac where playing (and liking) both factions is becoming an exhausting exercise in dealing with the Horde apologists who act like the Alliance are the only baddies and anyone who wants peace between the factions is somehow in the wrong. So, yeah lol

The first act of Warchief Baine was to dismantle the biological and chemical weapons facilities of the Forsaken. Some of them protested, but he and his braves had learned through hard, horrible lessons that their couldn't be mercy for people like that. That if they turned their backs, their own kindred would be dying, would be painfully risen, forced into service to the Forsaken leaders. Even if Calia lacked most of Sylvanas’ powers, even if she'd never been part of the crimes that were committed, they couldn't trust her.

The second act was to dismantle most of the goblin economy, their weapons, their slave trade. The Horde would suffer, in the short run, but in the long run they would never have to worry about such crimes against Nature and morality again.

From there, the 'clean up’ became ever smoother, until the Tauren, the loyal Tauren, the Tauren who shared Baine's ideals of peace, could rest. Could look at the Horde and know this was what they'd always wanted it to be.

Azeroth was shocked, the Alliance (Anduin, for what other part of the Alliance did Baine care about?) was shocked. All but stumbling in their meetings, as they worked out the details of their treaties. There were crimes the Alliance had committed, that some within in still committed, but those were often cast aside, never reaching the highest levels of leadership as they had among the Horde. 

Go'el had allowed racism and slavery to flourish under his rule, Garrosh had been a tyrant, his people murdering civilians and destroying the careful balance of their lands, and Sylvanas...Sylvanas had desired nothing but power, nothing but extending her life and creating bodies to increase the Forsaken population. Baine would not be such a leader, he would not fall into the trap of ego and selfishness. 

Anduin's approach was slower, gentler, in the way he was. A priest versus a warrior, true in all things. Still, the Alliance to improved, and their dalliance, when finally exposed, was far less of a scandal than it could have been.

They both took consorts of a type, continuing their bloodlines as best they could, but it was so easy to marry, to present it as a bid for lasting peace. Anduin, a politician despite his father's best (worst) efforts, made it sound so simple. Took all of the protests and twisted them into nothing. Baine had little effort needed among his own people--they knew the lengths he'd go for their freedom, for their safety, and assumed this was simply another avenue towards that.

Baine and Anduin could give themselves some little piece of normality, of the dreams they'd thought long dead, knowing that this, too, could be for Azeroth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I've created a WoW Shipping Discord for anyone interested in talking to other Warcraft fans about ships and fanworks: https://discord.gg/sQwVcF2


	12. Baine/Anduin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> During a clash between the Alliance and Horde, Baine gets hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're into WoW, check out the [WoW Shipping/Fanworks Discord](https://discord.gg/sQwVcF2) \- A place for features and fans to discuss ships and fanworks, with no ship hate!

Anduin shouldn't be doing this. This was how, he was sure, he'd die. If he were lucky. And yet he couldn't stop himself. He'd seen Baine go down, had felt the ripple in the energy around him, the sudden, shocking dip of the presence of him.

It hadn't gotten any better. Whatever the healers were doing, it wasn't enough.

He'd paced in his tent, unable to pay attention to troop reports or strategies. Finally he'd been able to beg off, saying he needed sleep, no one doubted that. It was simple to escape the confines of the camp, then, he'd been slipping guards since he was old enough to walk and now they seemed to think he was less of a flight risk.

He should have been. A good King wouldn't be doing this.

Getting into Horde territory was harder, but he'd spelled his clothes into something that hid who he was, what he was, and slipped between shadows until he'd reached the tent he could feel Baine's wavering life within.

The healers stood, confused, when he entered. They tried to stop him, when he revealed his face, desperately stating in accented Taur'ahe that he was only there to help. He fumbled with the length of leather around his neck, pulling out the piece of horn Baine had sent him, and they watched him then, not with suspicion, but with shock.

When he touched Baine, it was all he could do not to let fear cloud his mind, realizing just how far gone he was. He seized what power he could, letting his own weak body act as a conduit, and focused.

Anyone the least bit sensitive to such power nearby felt the healing like an explosion of Light contained in a tiny space, like a star settled among them. Unsure what to do, the priests and paladins in the camp gathered at the tent, eyes squinting against the brightness.

Baine had been expected to die, his rites were being prepared, his people already mourning. But now he was healed, completely, perhaps healthier even than he had been before. Sitting up on the pallet he'd been set upon, gripping a small, lithe body against his own as though it were precious crystal.

Anduin, when he finally roused, was not surprised to find himself a prisoner, but there was no cell, no chains, simply Baine's tent and his trusted guards, and Sylvanas’ smirking amusement. He'd chosen Baine over his people, it was a choice he might always second guess, but he couldn't quite regret it.


End file.
